The morning after the naval battle, Casablanca didn't look like a war zone. Thanks to the Golden Dome, the city was pristine. The only difference was the massive black tower of the Infinite Realm Emporium, which had now grown even taller, its peak piercing the clouds.
Omar stood in front of a mirror, adjusting a suit made of Void-Silk. He looked like a billionaire, but his eyes still had the sharp, hungry look of the porter from the slums.
"The guest list is confirmed, Master," Kaelen reported, his voice echoing in the marble hall. "Representatives from the United Nations, the heads of the top three Hunter Guilds, and... a mysterious envoy from the 'Underground Vatican'."
"Let them in," Omar said, checking his [Sovereign Inventory]. "And Kaelen? Make sure the prices are 'adjusted' for their net worth. If they can afford a private jet, they can afford a million-credit sword."
The doors of the Emporium swung open.
This wasn't just a shop anymore; it was a museum of wonders. Floating crystals provided light, and the shelves were filled with items that defied logic:
[The Phoenix Feather]: A one-time use item that resurrects the dead.
[The Map of Hidden Portals]: Shows every rift on Earth.
[The Architect's Tears]: A potion that permanently increases Mana by 500%.
As the world leaders walked in, they were silent. They weren't just looking at items; they were looking at the future of human power.
Director Marouane was the first to approach the counter. "Omar, the world is in chaos. Everyone wants what you have. The Americans are offering you citizenship, and the Europeans want to 'regulate' your shop. What's your move?"
Omar leaned on the counter, a smirk on his face. "Regulation? Tell them I'll consider it as soon as they pay the 'Oxygen Tax' for breathing in my shop's vicinity."
Suddenly, a woman dressed in a suit of pure white armor stepped forward. She didn't look like a hunter; she looked like an angel.
[Identification: Saint Sophia.]
[Rank: Unknown (High Priestess of the Light Sector).]
[Hidden Status: Envoy of the Architects.]
"Omar," she said, her voice like silver bells. "The Architects are willing to forgive your rebellion. They acknowledge your 'ownership' of this Sector. However, they require one thing in return: You must hand over the Golden Core of the Harvester. It contains data that humans are not meant to see."
The room went cold. Everyone looked at Omar. This was the moment of truth—peace with the gods or eternal war.
Omar reached under the counter and pulled out a small, dusty bottle. It wasn't the Core. It was a bottle of Traditional Moroccan Mint Tea, brewed with mana-infused leaves.
He poured a glass and pushed it toward Sophia. "In my culture, we don't talk business until we drink tea. But let me save you some time. That 'data' you're worried about? I've already decrypted it."
Sophia's eyes narrowed. "You... you accessed the Source Code?"
"I did," Omar's voice turned deadly serious. "And I know why you really want it back. It's not data. It's a List. A list of every human leader who took a bribe from the Architects to let the Portals open. Some of those people are in this room right now."
Panic rippled through the gathered elites. Weapons were drawn. Cold glares were exchanged.
"So," Omar continued, looking at the terrified world leaders. "The 'Grand Opening' is now a 'Grand Auction.' I'm selling the silence of your secrets. The bidding starts at 10 billion Cosmic Credits... per secret."
Omar wasn't just selling weapons anymore. He was selling the survival of the world's governments.
"Laila," Omar whispered. "Lock the doors. Nobody leaves until the checks are signed."